


The Cathedral

by skyoung200



Series: The After Empty (Original Work) [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Dark Magic, F/M, Magic, Magical Tattoos, Mute Boy, Muteness, Overly Descriptive, Post-Apocalypse, Ritual Magic, alternate forms of communication, cute dynamics between people, nature takes over buildings when the world ends, nature wins, no names, references to evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23939284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyoung200/pseuds/skyoung200
Summary: She adored buildings like this, and enjoyed freeing them even more. He enjoyed being along to help.(This is a short in a sort of post-apocalyptic world and is based on the Saint-Etienne in Toulouse.)
Series: The After Empty (Original Work) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725643
Kudos: 4





	The Cathedral

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is an original creative piece of writing based on a real landmark! It is an alternate universe where the world has ended somehow someway and now there are few people or living things left, and for the characters in this story, they have only seen and known one another.

This building was large and of a particular shape that she absolutely adored.

The intersecting oblong rectangles which made up the general shape of this rotting stone monument, for once, were not perfectly aligned. It almost looked like two separate buildings had been forced into one.

Well, plants had made it truly united now. Inside the misalignment was clear but outside, trees, vines, grass, and a large range of moss had grown wildly. The plants had also crept inside but it was to a lesser degree.

She stood where one building met another, following a line of tall grass and vines pushing through the divide. She hardly looked up, too interested in identifying the moss. She had been picking the best parts and sorting them into the various pouches and bottles strapped to her person. Around her waist there were at least six pouches and a matching number of small glass bottles. Some already filled and some currently being filled. None were obviously labeled but she always knew what was where.

These storage containers were all bound securely to a leather belt at the waist and below that her skirt bunched up from her crouched position. When standing it fell just below her knee and it was a dusty brown. There were two channels running down the front of the skirt and two in the back. They had thick corded braided leather running through them and when she needed to, she could pull from the ends of the cord that stuck out at the waist band of the skirt. It would cinch the length of it up, the cords tied around her belt, her warm thick leggings underneath exposed, all so she could move better. There were large pockets sewn into the seams on each side, more messily done since she had added the pockets long after the skirt had first been made. In her left pocket she kept her small journal of notes. It held her maps, sketches, and musings inside. It was bound in a soft leather, covered with runes and sigils, keeping it safe from prying eyes and filling it with endless pages. Her other pocket held her field spell book. That had yet to be pulled out since observing and collecting moss consumed all her attention.

She waddled on in her crouched position, her knee-high black leather boots, well made and well worn, helping her keep her balance. Their color matched that of her arm wraps today. They were a deep black which covered up to near her shoulder and most of her hands. She had worn this particular set today because their extra coverage on her hands helped with climbing. Her shirt had its short sleeves tucked into the arms wraps. It was a light off white linen tunic, a bit oversized but it worked well. The tie holding her hair up also matched the black of her boots and wraps. It kept her large mess of dark brown curls contained into a braid. One she had not done herself as she was completely useless at taming her own hair.

A stray curl fell into her eyes as she was picked up from her crouched position by the one who had done her braid so skillfully for her. He was tall, so very tall. At least compared to her. But she was small. Well, there wasn’t much to compare with but he was tall and she was small. He was well built, his broad strong shoulders allowed him to lift her with ease.

She let out a soft cheery giggle and wiggled around in his hold a bit to face him. He made no sound in return, for he could not. He had been mute for as long as they had known one another and he thinks longer. But his expression softened as he set her back down upright on her feet. He pointed westward towards the larger segment of the building and she gasped.

Inside the building was beautiful, so big, so detailed. Clearly, Goddess had reclaimed much but the stone work remaining was incredible.

She ran forward, between rows of old and long rotted wooden seats to what appeared to be an alter.

She shuddered in fear at the hollow-eyed mask and spatterings of long dried blood she saw there but felt no threat. The mask had moss growing on it and this building had been sealed when they first found it, so they were long gone.

But then she looked up again and her awe returned. The statues had been vandalized but she could appreciate the beauty that once had been and the new beauty nature had created.

She twirled in circles looking up and plotting a path, then further down the walls to begin her ascent. She saw speckles of colored light dancing across the floor from some pieces of windows which had survived and they motivated her further. She loved to collect old glass.

Her path was set and a big leap was to be the first step. She crouched, ready to make the leap and had just pushed off when large arms wrapped around her waist. She let out a pitiful whine and let herself go limp and dead weight to make her unhappiness known to her companion.

He was unbothered as he carried her to another spot in the building where a column was crumbling, a much easier beginning than her impulsive first choice. He first set her down on the ground, huffing when she dramatically slumped over. It once again didn’t seem to bother him really, he seemed used to her dramatics. He gently tugged at her skirt, pulling the leather cord up and tying it to her belt to give her freer movement. She seemed to sputter a bit realizing she had made such a basic oversight in her excitement to begin her climb. He also fixed her hair, tucking away stray strands and curls and securing in place the tie and her pins. When he finished, he gave a nod, hoisted her up by the waist, and let her begin her climb.

She stuck to the column and in an instant rapidly began her ascent. It wasn’t long before she was dangling from old stone carvings and going in and out of holes where windows once were. She made her way to the open window sill just over the alter, picking chunks of colored glass as she went, and sat down, legs dangling inside. She pulled out her book of spells and set it her lap so she could slowly unwind the wraps on her arms.

He, on the other hand, did no climbing but continued to circle around the building. Taking in details of ancient relics and shrines to some long-lost religion. He took more practical notes and sketches. Wood and stone still in good shape and easy to move or carry to help their own shelter. Sketches of new looking plants. And of course, a sketch of the hollow-eyed mask. Those were kept to their own sketch book sealed behind protective sigils carved into leather. Soon though, the mask would be gone and this place could be free of its hauntings.

She had her arms completely exposed now, revealing an intricate pattern of tattoos. From fingers to shoulder her arms are covered in almost a sort of lacework of sigils and magical circles. She had done much of this by hand or with magic and he had later helped her finish. They were why she could cast with writing and without words, why she only carried a small spell book with the necessities. She had everything she needed on her arms.

She opened her spell book to a page it had been opened to an uncountable number of times, the spine permanently creased there. She pulled a long fine pin made of bone from her hair. It was of Goddess and she had made it herself. It was wickedly sharp.

As she pricked her finger, the ritual began. She sang softly, her voice cracking at first from disuse but she quickly evened out. It echoed in a hauntingly beautiful way around the building filling the space completely. She let her blood drip down onto the mask below and her arms began to glow. A warm yellow light emanated from the sigils and circles being called forth into use. Though he could not speak, he hummed, in his own way, along and watched her. And it continued like that for a while. Quiet hum with haunting vocals, warm light, and the dripping of blood.

The space was large and she felt a little light headed after nearly an hour of steady casting, singing, and bleeding but then it happened all at once.

The mask on the alter shattered into a million pieces calling forth shadows and darkness from every crack and crevasse in the building. The shards and darkness met as one in a horrible dance before bursting apart again and disappearing.

It was done.

This place was free from their presence now. And the difference it made was immediate. Light seemed brighter and plants seemed to stretch up to greet it.

She smiled and began to rewrap her arms for the journey down. Book in pocket, pin in hair, and wraps secured, she retraced her ascent. She fell into his arms, poking the worry lines on his forehead and then climbing him like he was one of the statues she had just climbed on. She secured herself on his back. She had long accepted her need for help after draining spell work and he was happy to help.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! I plan to post more shorts that are in the same universe!


End file.
